Had Luke not been clever enough to reach for her hand and clasp it in his he may not have prevented her from throwing open the door and departing on her ill-conceived quest. It wasn't that she necessarily disagreed with his logic. Rhiane was aware, despite her protests to the contrary, her arm was sufficiently disabled that scaling rough terrain would be an almost insurmountable challenge in ideal weather. She didn't know how to cope with the intense emotional the collision had evoked: the overwhelming shame, the horror as they were flung through the air, and the anxiety that came with being so open and candid with someone for who she was trying desperately to remain unattached. If pressed she could count on a few fingers the time she had run from anything, and yet this had managed to manifest all of her nightmares in the span of less than ten minutes.

As he released her hand to shake the bracelet embedded with his assistant AI she turned her attention back out the window. Her mind drifted freely from the confines of their vehicle. The princess elect wondered if she would ever see what sort of king Luke would eventually make. Queen Camilla was in no rush to abdicate the throne to her reluctant son and was, as well as anyone could discern, still in good health. There was no frailty of body or mind that the rebellion had spotted to incorporate into their propaganda. It was entirely possible she'd wait until Rhiane was no longer a part of the equation before she'd allow succession to happen. Just because she followed the tradition of choosing a bride for her heir did not mean she would be willing to see that peasant rise above the title of princess. It was the best way to ensure that she, as the interloper, never seized more power than absolutely necessary. Rhiane found herself more disappointed she wouldn't see the stubborn, cocky, wishful pilot ascend than she would have thought.

Rhiane was jerked back to reality when Luke proclaimed rescue was on its way. She was slightly suspicious, as she hadn't heard any other voices while she was lost in reverie, but she admittedly hadn't been paying much attention. Rain had begun to fall in more earnest. It splattered off the hood as other droplets began to fall from the edges of broken glass. Rhiane wasn't particularly panicked about it just yet; she didn't have any open wound so getting wet wouldn't worsen her condition unless she sat it in for a prolonged period of time. Even then she was unlikely to catch a cold until night fell and the temperature dropped.

"The back?" she echoed. After several seconds of consideration she shook her head in a subdued refusal. "I'll open the doors for you so you can get in the back, but you'll be more comfortable if you lay down back there. I'll just be in the way." It was a baffling stance for her to voice until one took into account how she little she considered herself in equations with others. Rhiane would much prefer to 'suffer in silence' as he called it if it spared the person(s) she cared about an ounce of displeasure. Just as he was undoubtedly about to launch his argument she leaned to the side and opened the driver's side door with her good hand. It groaned in protest, sticking at first, but she had enough upper body strength to force the damaged hinges. Even before Luke moved she was opening the back door to expedite his trip.

It had not yet begun to pour but Rhiane's hair and shoulders rapidly becoming damp. "You rest better by yourself," she pointed out, referring to his preference to having his own space in their suite, and how their sleeping arrangement kept them on opposite sides of the bed in the past if forced to share. Though she did not say it aloud, this was her acknowledgment of the perception he didn't particularly want to be touching and in close proximity to the farmer if it could be helped. "And since this is all my fault..." she called out as the drizzle intensified to a more rapid rainfall that pelted leaves, branches, and underbrush. Luke wasn't trying to punish her for her mistake, but that didn't mean that she didn't feel a need to punish herself.

But it was not beyond Luke's capabilities to out-maneuver her. She had shown reluctance to pull away when he held her hand; some of this was because she didn't want him to hurt himself further trying to keep hold, and some of this was because she was bashfully attached to the implied affection when he wasn't going out of his way to remind her he thought of her as a contract. Were he to take her hand and try to lead her into the back seat she would follow, if only because she was so tortured about the possibility she could cause him further pain.

Given her lack of response to the sling, he could presume she was less than thrilled at the prospect of any treatment being administered- and was hoping that if she ignored his request it might just fade away.